


Moving In

by neveralarch



Category: Black Books
Genre: Gen, Preseries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 07:52:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neveralarch/pseuds/neveralarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fran's got a new neighbor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ArmchairElvis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArmchairElvis/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide, ArmchairElvis! This isn't very dark and it's pretty gen, but I hope you like it anyway.

Someone's moving into the shop next door. Fran moves her chair a little so she can see the moving truck through her big display window. Ooh, large handsome man, lots of muscles, best new neighbor or _best_ new neighbor- no, wait, that's one of the movers. Shame. 

All they're moving in right now are books and bookshelves. Fran surmises that his means there will be a bookstore next to her soon. Well, it'll have to be better than the combination coffee shop and guitar repair that was there before. The twitchy, caffeine-fueled strumming got on Fran's nerves.

Ooh, Mover's got a friend. Taller, gorgeous set of freckles, thick biceps. Maybe Fran should hire a moving company to deal with some of her back-stock. There are lots of heavy things to carry around and flex with.

The movers haul a couch out of the back of the moving van. The couch has a pile of black laundry on it, which shifts and reveals itself to be a man. He looks like he's asleep, and he doesn't move as the two men carry the couch into the shop.

Is that the man who owns the bookstore? He doesn't look like much. Fran supposes she should go over and introduce herself, quickly, before the movers leave. She flips her sign to closed and goes out.

"Hello!" she calls, to Mover 1. He's carrying three boxes now, and flashes her a smile as he goes into the store. Fran follows him in.

"I own the store next door," says Fran, feeling like she needs to justify her presence in some way. The movers both smile at her and keep moving boxes and shelves around. The man on the couch starts at her voice and rolls over and off onto the floor. His head hits the floor with a thump, and he groans.

"Oh my god," says Fran. "Are you all right? Is he all right?"

"He was like that the whole trip," says Mover 2, in a very attractive voice. "We thinks he's drunk."

"Or hungover," says Mover 1, in an even more attractive voice. "Or both."

The man groans. Fran recognizes that groan, because she's groaned that groan. It's the groan of someone who's too drunk to understand why their head hurts. The movers shrug and keep moving things.

"Where am I?" groans the man.

"You're in your shop," says Fran. She bends over to look at him properly, but between his messy black hair and his messy black suit, there's not much to look at.

"My shop?" says the man. "I don't have a shop. Did we get to Dublin?"

"You're in London," says Fran.

"What the hell am I doing in London?" The man rubs at his face with both hands, then crosses his arms over his face, and then rubs his face with his hands again. Fran watches this process for a while, but it doesn't seem to be helping anything.

"What sort of shop is it?" asks the man. He still hasn't opened his eyes.

"Looks like a bookshop," says Fran.

"Bookshop," mutters the man. "London. Bookshop. Is it your bookshop?"

"No, it's yours," says Fran. "I have the shop next door."

"What do you sell?"

Fran thinks about this.

"Dunno," she admits. "I just order things at random from a catalog, and then people come and buy them."

"Sounds awful," says the man.

Mover 2 brings in a sandwich board that says "BLACK BOOKS" on top and "Bernard Black, Proprietor" in smaller letters below.

"Are you Bernard Black?" asks Fran.

The man sits up, eyes wide open. "No! Yes! Who told you?"

"It says on your sign," says Fran, and points. Bernard stares at the sign with deep bewilderment.

"Could we get a signature?" asks Mover 1, holding out a clipboard. He offers it to Bernard, first, but Bernard is till staring at the sign, mouth hanging open. Mover 1 hands the clipboard to Fran instead, and she signs. Then she adds her number, just in case.

"You're not leaving, are you?" she asks.

"Got some more deliveries, sweetheart," says Mover 1. God, that voice. Mover 2 smiles again, and Fran smiles back, and then both of them are gone and Fran has completely missed her chance. Blast.

"What have I done?" asks Bernard, apparently of the world at large.

"I don't know," says Fran. "But I think you should buy me a drink to make up for it."


End file.
